


And Back Again

by aljohnson



Series: "There, we've made a start" [2]
Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Honesty, Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aljohnson/pseuds/aljohnson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The follow up to my piece, "Not going on my rounds", this is a continuation of the "missing scenes" filling in the gaps from what we saw at the end of Season 2, Episode 8 of Call the Midwife.</p><p>As ever, no copyright infringement intended, I am not making any money from this work, all characters are the copyright / IP of one or more of: The estate of Jennifer Worth, Heidi Thomas, Neal Street Productions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A start...

**Author's Note:**

> In which Shelagh and Patrick have a very honest conversation on the edge of a road which I imagine to be somewhere on the edge of Epping Forest.

 

_“There, we’ve made a start”_

Shelagh and Patrick stood on the roadside, the fog still clinging to the fields surrounding them. To both of them, it felt like the world cocooning them, just for this short moment, from reality. They felt as if, here, in the emptiness of the Essex countryside they could finally be honest, with themselves and each other.

They stood together, Shelagh wrapped in Patrick’s coat, just feeling each other’s presence, and knowing now that no-one would interrupt them. It felt so right to both of them, as if the final pieces of a jigsaw had slotted into place.

“I should take you back to Poplar”

“That would be nice, thank you.”

“Forgive me, but you said that there were 'arrangements to be made’?”

“Yes,” Shelagh bowed her head, shyly, feeling the weight of the decision she was about to confirm, “I believe, as so often seems to be the case nowadays, that there is paperwork which must be completed.”

“Paperwork…?”

“Yes,” she gulped, blinking slowly as she cleared her throat. She raised her eyes from where they had been determinedly examining Patrick’s tie. She reminded herself that it was acceptable for her to do this now: it was allowed for her to meet his gaze, and to gaze back at him. To do so was no longer forbidden, “there are various, forms, and other considerations. When someone, leaves the order”.

They continued to survey each other, the full force of Shelagh’s statement hitting both of them. Patrick grinned, “Really? You really are, leaving?” he sought reassurance.

“Yes. I believe there is a different path for me now”

Patrick felt as if he had been hit by a bolt of lightning, and realised that his response now needed to reassure her, to demonstrate the force of his feelings, to both support her and to show that he wanted to be with her.

“Well, now that we have made a start, I would very much like to walk that path with you. If you feel that it is appropriate?”

“I would like that, yes.”

They both smiled. It was as if a great weight of uncertainty had been lifted from them. A shaft of sunlight briefly broke through the fog, and Shelagh was suddenly aware that they were not alone.

“You have Timothy with you.”

“Yes.”

“Is he, all right? He’s not unwell?”

“No.” Patrick paused, unsure of Shelagh’s meaning, “oh, oh, it’s half-term” he explained, “and the little scamp had snuck into the car, thinking I was going on my rounds.”

“Oh.” A silence descended between them. Patrick could see that Shelagh was trying to say something, and he gave her a moment, sliding his fingers gently up and down the sleeve of his overcoat, still draped around Shelagh’s shoulders as he waited for her to find the words she was plainly searching for.

“May I ask, how much does he know?”

“Of this?” Patrick swept his hand between them.

“Yes.”

“He knows, well, some of it. When I told him that I wasn’t going on my rounds, and that we were coming to collect you, I thought, although obviously I was still, unsure, but I thought I should at least tell him about how I felt.”

“Oh. You were unsure?”

“I hadn’t heard from you and until you mentioned me in your letter to Timothy, I had lost all hope. I thought I had been stupid, and rash, and, unforgivably forward.”

“You thought I was rejecting you?”

“Yes. I am sorry I ever doubted you. But I would have understood if you had.”

“I just needed time. To reflect, and, to pray.”

“But then when you called me earlier, I hoped, I hoped that it was a sign, that you saw a place for me in your future.”

“Which is why I called you. I thought you should know that I was coming back.”

“I am so glad you did”.

 “And what does Timothy think?” asked Shelagh, hesitantly.

“He, he was surprised, at first. Which was understandable, as I hadn’t told him anything before today. But, erm, well, he seems to think that, well, if I, erm, if I love you, and if you, if you love me, then that’s fine.” Patrick paused, as he searched Shelagh’s eyes, and found in them a reflection of the love he felt for her. “He helped me to find you. Actually, he saw you through the fog before I did.”

Patrick smiled at Shelagh, his fingers continuing to graze the lapel of his own coat. Shelagh suddenly reached out and grabbed his right hand. She looked deeply into his eyes, and slowly lifted his hand to her mouth, her lips grazing his knuckles in the lightest of kisses. Patrick could not resist brushing the back of his hand lightly over Shelagh’s cheek, and she briefly fluttered her eyes closed as his hand fell back towards her shoulders.

They smiled at each other, a good start made between them now that they could be honest with each other.  Shelagh shivered slightly, the standing having affected her more than the walk along the uneven roads, through the dense fog and the unknown countryside. Patrick pulled the overcoat tighter around her.

“Come on, let’s get you in the car, warm you up.” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, attempting to warm her. He bent down and picked up her suitcases, gently urging her in the direction of the car as he did so. 


	2. Day-dream believer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick is in a daze, Timmy is despairing of his Dad, and two large cases into one small space is one big problem.

As Patrick and Shelagh approached the car Timothy tried to figure out what was happening. They had been standing over there on the side of the road for quite a few minutes, and they had seemed to be deep in conversation. At one point he had seen Sister lean to one side slightly as if she was looking at him. There had been what appeared to be some, frankly, rather embarrassing and utterly uncool stroking of arms, and Timothy was fairly sure that at one point the woman, who he had decided was surprisingly pretty, had kissed his dad’s hand. That was weird, if he was being honest with himself – that wasn’t what grown ups usually looked like when they were kissing – and for some reason that he couldn’t quite understand, he had the distinct feeling that he was intruding on something he shouldn’t really be seeing. 

As the two adults approached the car, he saw his dad gesturing at him vigorously with his head, which he decided to interpret as ‘get out of the car Timothy, I need a hand with these suitcases’. 

Timothy opened the car door, emerging onto the roadside as the blonde-haired woman reached him,

“Hello” said Timothy, smiling.

“Hello” said Shelagh, smiling back at him shyly. She looked at the car nervously, and Timothy waved towards the car.

“You look a bit cold. It’s warm in the front, Dad’s had the heater on when we drove up here”, Timothy gestured towards the seat he had just vacated.

“Timothy, give me a hand with these will you?” Patrick interrupted before the conversation could properly start.

“Sure Dad, no problem” Timothy walked round to the boot of the car where his Dad was trying to juggle the two large cases and his keys. They heard the car door shut quietly as Shelagh settled into the front seat to try to warm up.

Patrick found the keys and opened the boot of the MG. Timothy and Patrick both leant down, to manhandle the cases, Timothy anxious to establish how things had gone.

“Well?’ he hissed, trying to interrogate his father quietly.

“Well what?” replied Patrick, glancing furtively at the front seat of the car.

“What happened? Does she love you? Are you, what’s it called, ‘courting’ now? And is she not a nun any more?” Timothy fired the questions at his father like a machine gun firing bullets, enthusiasm more potent than considered aim.

“Erm, well. Erm.” Patrick floundered. Apparently now the boy had a lot of questions, “Erm, we talked, briefly. She is leaving the order. She, erm, she seems to be quite keen on me. She asked about you, too.” At that the boy grinned, “And erm, as to, erm, well ‘courting’, erm, well, we, erm, we didn’t really talk about that. Maybe we should have”, Patrick was suddenly worried, he felt like he was doing this all wrong, but it had been quite a morning and he was aware that he was in somewhat of a state of shock.

“Honestly Dad, you’re rubbish at this. Right, first things first; how does she have so much luggage – I thought Nuns didn’t have stuff?” the two of them were struggling now. The first case, the one that Patrick recognized from when he had brought Sister Bernadette out here had gone easily into the boot of the car, but unless they were geniuses, there was no way this other case was going to fit in as well. 

“Honestly Tim, I’m not entirely sure. When I brought her out here she just had this one”, he indicated the case already safely stowed in the boot, “I don’t know where this one came from”.

“You have a worrying lack of curiosity Dad” replied Timothy, who at that point noticed a small label attached to the somewhat battered case they were struggling with. “She-lagh Man-nion”, Timothy struggled with the strange spelling of an unfamiliar name, “Is that her name?” 

“Erm, yes, yes it will be” replied Patrick, realizing now his stupidity in failing to even establish Shelagh’s surname. His felt like he knew so little, but his heart felt like it knew everything it would ever have to. 

“OK” said Timothy, deciding to take charge of the situation, “next – has she ‘indicated the depth of her feelings’ for you?” asked Timothy, pushing the bounds of the amount of sass he knew his dad would tolerate. 

Patrick looked at the boy in astonishment, “I’m never going to live that remark down, am I?”

“Nope.”

“Well then. Erm, well, she has indicated that she would like to, erm, spend more time with me, and well, actually we didn’t really get much further than that.” Patrick felt like an idiot, was he reading this all wrong? He couldn’t be could he? She had said that she wanted to be with him, hadn’t she? He couldn’t remember, actually, precisely what had been said, he had been so distracted by the fact of her being before him, that it was already starting to feel like a bit of a blur.

“Dad. Dad. Stop day-dreaming. Right, next. Is she stopping being a nun?” Timothy had no idea what was going on in his dad’s head, but plainly it was all over the place, and suddenly some moments in the last few months, when he had seen his dad just sitting, seemingly staring into space, made a lot more sense. 

“Yes, yes she is” Patrick was confident in that answer, he definitely hadn’t imagined that when she had said it – in no day dream had there ever been mention of paperwork. He smiled broadly. 

“OK then. Dad, you really seem to not be very good at this. And there is no way this case is going in the boot. We’ll put it on the back seat next to me. Dad, help me lift it”.  
Patrick suddenly snapped back to reality, and gripped the other end of the case that Timothy was already trying awkwardly to haul round to the back seat of the car. Timothy opened the back door of the car, and hopped in, continuing to hold the case, albeit without taking any of the weight. Timothy turned his attention to the pretty woman sat in the front seat who had turned her head towards him.

“We can’t fit this in the boot; it’ll have to stay next to me. Is that OK? I’ll hold onto it for you.” said Timothy, sliding across the back seat and vaguely pulling the case toward him. The case suddenly popped through the back door and rested awkwardly across the seat and foot well. Shelagh smiled at him.

“Oh yes, that’s fine. Thank you very much. I’m sorry; I suddenly seem to have quite a lot of things”

The back door clicked shut, and Patrick quickly opened the driver’s door, seating himself besides Shelagh. Today was turning out very differently to how he had planned it.


	3. "Auntie Shelagh".....?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot to discuss, and Timothy to help them discuss it....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains reference to my personal head-canon that Sister B was much more up for action in the "Kitchen of Destiny" than she was willing to admit even to herself!

Patrick settled himself into the driver’s seat and rubbed his hands together to warm them up. It was colder out here than he had anticipated, and the heat he had retained whilst driving out here had faded as he stood at the roadside holding his coat around Shelagh’s shoulders. He didn’t care though, his heart felt warmer than it had done for many months, and he allowed a small smile to creep across his face. He glanced over at Shelagh who appeared to also be smiling, although somewhat more shyly than he was.   
Suddenly, Timothy thrust himself forwards from the backseat, startling both Patrick and Shelagh. Timothy addressed her, “So, hello. This case has a label on it, with a name. Is it your name?”

“Timothy!” warned Patrick, “don’t be rude.”

“Oh it’s fine” said Shelagh, quickly, smiling at both of them, “Yes, that’s my name”.

“How do you say it?” asked Timothy, the boy deciding the spelling made an attempt to pronounce the name almost impossible to his young mind.

“Shelagh” replied the woman, smiling as she took in the boy’s puzzled expression, “it’s an Irish spelling”.

“Oh. There’s a girl in my class called Sheila, she spells it S-H-E-I-L-A, but it sounds the same as what you just said?”

“Yes.”

Timothy sat back, considering this. Patrick winched slightly, and smiled apologetically towards Shelagh, “We should get going, get you back to Poplar.”

“Yes, thank you.” They smiled at each other, both completely lost to the ability to be able to look at each other openly. 

Timothy coughed and the couple looked away from each other, embarrassed. Shelagh’s cheeks reddened somewhat, whilst Patrick fiddled nervously with his tie. He turned over the engine and hesitantly manoeuvred the MG through a three point turn. Accelerating gently away, the car purred gently back down the slope which Patrick and Timothy had driven up those several minutes earlier.

Timothy leaned forwards again, looking between the two adults, “But if your name is Shelagh, why are you called ‘Sister Bernadette’?” the boy asked, curiously. 

“Timothy! Sorry, Shelagh.” Patrick apologised.

“No, no, it’s fine. I imagine other people may have more probing questions.” Shelagh reached her hand out as if to pat Patrick’s arm, but stopped at the last moment, lightly clenching her fist and withdrawing her hand back to where it had been on her lap instead. 

“’Sister Bernadette’ is the name I chose when I entered Holy Orders. When I became a nun”, she explained, seeing the look of puzzlement on the boy’s face.

“So you have to have a different name?”

“Yes”

“Why?”

“Well, because when you become a nun, you make vows, and you leave your old life behind, and part of that is giving up your old identity, your old name.”

“Oh”. Timothy considered this, “so, do you choose your nun name, or does someone else decide it?”

“You choose”.

“Oh. All right” Timothy sat back down in the back seat again to consider this. He looked out of the window of the car, the forest was fading now and they were back on the very edge of suburbia.

Patrick glanced over at Shelagh, wrapped up in his coat, she looked serene and happy. 

“May I ask, what is going to happen when you get back?”

“I will have to see Sister Julienne, confirm to her that I am leaving the order, and complete the forms. Then, I suppose, I will have to find somewhere to live…” Shelagh’s voice faded, she hadn’t even considered the practicalities of what happened next. 

“Why can’t you stay at Nonnatus House?” Timothy asked from the back seat.

“Oh, erm, well, I, I just can’t. You can only really live there if you’re one of the nuns. And I am about to stop being a nun.” The realisation in the sentence was staggering. Shelagh didn’t want to stay at Nonnatus. If she was leaving, she was leaving, and she feared that if she stayed, then the Sisters might try to persuade her to stay, and she also felt that she couldn’t properly explain to them the full reasons for her leaving, at least not yet. 

“But the midwives live there. They’re not nuns” piped up Timothy, the rebuttal wholly accurate, and entirely unhelpful.

“Yes, that is true” said Shelagh, “but, it’s, well it’s difficult to explain, but I don’t feel as if I can stay there.”

“I’m sure they’d let you stay, if you asked nicely. I mean, they all like you, and they wouldn’t want you to be homeless, surely? Oh, or I know, you could come and stay with us!” exclaimed Timothy, thinking this was a brilliant idea.

Shelagh flushed bright red. Patrick stammered, “no, no, absolutely not Timothy”

“Why not?”

“Well, because, because it would not be appropriate,” stammered Patrick, trying now to look anywhere other than at Shelagh, “and besides, ‘Auntie Shelagh’,” Patrick winched slightly at that and Shelagh audibly inhaled a short breath, “’Auntie Shelagh’ needs to carry on resting, after the TB treatment, and you are too noisy young man” Patrick felt he had recovered the situation admirably. He was really not sure about the ‘Auntie Shelagh’ label, it had come to him out of the blue, and felt awkward and odd, entirely inappropriate and a million miles away from what he was trying to convey, and from the position he hoped Shelagh would soon occupy in their lives, but he had blurted it out in a panic, and now he was lumbered with it.

Shelagh turned to look at him, “’Auntie Shelagh’?” she mouthed, a sly wink evident in her eyes. “Sorry”, mouthed Patrick, with a shrug of his shoulders. Shelagh smiled at him and bit her lip, trying to stifle the giggle she could feel forming. 

Patrick quickly wracked his brain, “do you think that maybe, lodgings would be acceptable to you?” he asked, an idea forming in his mind.

“Well, yes, I’m not sure of where there are any though…” her voice tailed off again.

“If you’d let me, I’d like to help” said Patrick, hoping with all his might that she would agree. He was aware that he was possibly over-stepping some boundaries here, offering to pay for accommodation for her. He worried that she would think he was placing an obligation on her, when none was meant. Patrick's mind was already racing ahead to a future together, as man and wife, but he didn't want to rush Shelagh, even if he was ready to race ahead as fast as he could.

Shelagh considered her response carefully. She had no money. She had no income for the foreseeable future and she was suddenly fearful that even if she was considered to be recovered enough, she would feel distinctly uncomfortable working alongside the other sisters and the nurses who had known her as ‘Sister Bernadette’ so soon after she had rejected that identity.

“That would be, very generous. Thank you.” Shelagh worried to herself that she was making herself too reliant on Patrick, that she was maybe allowing herself to be a kept woman, with all the implications that came with that term. However, she was confident that he would not take advantage. He had not even kissed her earlier, on the roadside, when she had kissed his hand. The memory of that day in the kitchen came flooding back to her. 

She could see it all, the way he had reverently held her hand, and looked at her, and then slowly, so slowly, bent forwards to kiss her palm. And she had known, really, if she was being totally honest with herself, what he was going to do; had hoped for it, and wished for it. She knew that he had moved slowly enough that she could have taken a step back, removed her hand at any point before his lips made contact. But she had not stepped back, she had not stopped him until it was too late, and then she had felt the surge of energy as the lightning brush of his lips had felt as if it had rushed around her entire body in the seconds it took her to pull her hand away and turn her back on him. And she had known, then, really, that she would have to make some hard choices, she knew then that she had feelings for him, but that she had denied them, even to herself, in fear and shame and regret, until she had come to the realisation that God was not punishing her for this. She wondered now how she had not seen it before. How long had it been there for him, and for her? Had he looked at her this way when she had been unable to meet his gaze all those months before? Was it too much to hope that he might propose? She was certain she would agree to marry him if he asked – now that she had realised that he truly loved her, and she him, she was anxious to avoid losing any more time with him. She wanted to move onto a new life, and new dreams, with Patrick, and with Timothy, and hopefully, a child of their own. 

The houses were becoming smaller now, and more densely packed, they were getting closer to Poplar.

“I, erm, I know a woman: Mrs Williams, who runs a lodging house, just round the corner from the surgery. She’s very nice, and quite grateful for the care I gave to her husband a few years back. If you would allow me to speak to her…?” Patrick broke the comfortable silence that had arisen. 

“Are you sure that’s all right? I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.”

“It’s no trouble, really. Should we call there first, so that you know you have somewhere?”

“Yes, please, that would be, reassuring” Shelagh chose her words carefully.

They were heading towards Kenilworth Row now, and Shelagh could feel her nervousness rising. Patrick stopped the car by a large imposing house, which Shelagh recognised as one of the many lodging houses in the dock area. The building was well cared for, and the curtains in the windows seemed fresh, the nets clean. Patrick cleared his throat and spoke, “Do you want to stay here whilst I go and talk to Mrs Williams? Just in case there are any problems?” he added. 

Shelagh nodded, and Patrick opened the door to get out, “be good Timothy. Please try not to ask too many probing questions”. Patrick shut the door of the car behind him and bounded up the steps of the lodging house. 

Timothy and Shelagh sat in the car, waiting. Timothy spoke first, “my dad said he wrote to you.”

“Yes”

“And the nice nurse at the Sanatorium said you read them all in one go.”

“You went to the Sanatorium?”

“Yes. That was how we knew you’d left already. Dad was late. As usual!”

Shelagh tried to suppress a laugh, “well, to be fair, I did ring him out of the blue.”

“Oh. Did you like his letters? That nurse said she thought you did?”

“I did. They were very,” Shelagh searched for the right word, “honest”. ‘Honest’ she decided was the best word for it, she was still unsure as to what exactly Patrick had told Timothy, and she didn’t want to say too much. She knew that children were resilient, but she also knew that there came a breaking point, and she didn’t want to challenge the boy if he was not ready for his father to have a new relationship. 

Timothy’s mind worked to slot everything together – his dad had written to Sister Ber...., no to “Auntie Shelagh” and she hadn’t written back, if what she had said in her letter to him was any indication. He wasn’t sure exactly what his dad had written, but it sounded like it had probably all been a bit, well, mushy. His dad had been moping, his dad had fallen in love with her, and she’d rung him to say she could come home. Why had she rung him? It must mean something, but both Shelagh and his Dad were being very vague. The only thing he was sure of was that the nuns were about to have one less Sister in their Order.

“Auntie Shelagh, can I ask you something?” Timothy wasn’t sure about this ‘Auntie Shelagh’ business, but he decided to go with it as it was obviously what his dad was comfortable with.

“Of course Timothy”

“Do you love my dad? Because he told me that he’s been falling in love with you for ages, and he wants you to love him back, and I think that would be really nice”.

Shelagh caught her breath. Oh this child, saying in two sentences what Patrick and she had danced around for months. “Yes, yes I do Timothy”. The truth of it now hit Shelagh full force – she did love him, was sure of it now. She had said on the roadside that she was certain, but now she knew she was. She was also nervous, and worried now that she was back in Poplar, that people would talk. This felt too precious a revelation to be shared amongst the local populace, who she knew enjoyed a good gossip, and would surely not be able to resist twisting the story of ‘the nun and the Doctor’. She wanted to keep this quiet as long as she could. She turned to the boy, “but, and I know I should not ask this, would you keep this just between the three of us?”

“OK, but why? Don’t you want everyone to know?”

“I do, I do, eventually. But, I am still, technically, a nun right now, and me stopping being a nun might be quite a shock to people. And it might be even more of a shock if people find out how your father and I feel about each other very soon after I stop being a nun. And I think that we’d like to keep it just between ourselves for a while. Do you understand?”

“Like a secret?”

“Erm, sort of?”

“All right.”

The pair both went quiet. Timothy was thinking through the implications of everything. He was going to have to have a ‘deep man to man chat’ with his Dad later. There were various matters to be raised, not least the issue of this whole ‘Auntie Shelagh’ thing. At that point, Patrick came bounding down the steps of the boarding house, a grin on his face. He rushed round and opened the driver’s door, bending down to speak to Shelagh.

“All sorted!”

“Really?”

“Yes. She was very, understanding. She’s arranged you a lovely room on the first floor. Would you like to leave any luggage here now?”

“Erm, yes, this case here…” Shelagh indicated the battered suitcase being minded by Timothy, “this case has my things in it”. Shelagh emphasised the ‘my’, a feeling which was strange after ten years of having no possessions of her own. 

Patrick reached round and opened the back door, Timothy and him awkwardly manoeuvring the case out of the car, the movement no easier than it had been on the roadside. Patrick spoke from the pavement, “would you like me to take it in for you. Do you want to stay in the car or step inside?”

Shelagh considered the options; she needed to end one journey before she could start this new one. “I will stay here, if that is agreeable to you?”

“Yes, absolutely. Just give me two more minutes” Patrick grasped the battered case and bounded back into the building. Timothy pulled the door shut and settled back down in the seat. 

They both sat in silence as Shelagh started to consider exactly what she was going to say to Sister Julienne. She felt as if she would not be surprised, but would want to know why. She was not sure how she would respond in a way which would satisfy the senior Sister, whilst keeping things private. Shelagh didn’t want to publicise her feelings for Patrick whilst they were so, well, informal. The future was so uncertain, and yet Shelagh felt God’s love surrounding her, guiding her forwards, and she trusted Him to show her how to live her life now. She smiled to herself – she felt excited, a feeling she had not allowed herself to experience for some time. 

Timothy observed from the back seat. Shelagh was pretty, and funny, and he liked her. She seemed in some ways shyer than she had before she had gone away, but he could see her relaxing even during this short time together. Timothy was about to break the silence when Patrick bounded down the steps, around the MG and popped open the door, “right then, all sorted” he beamed as he settled himself into the seat, “where to now?”

There was no more stalling, no more delaying the fateful moment, the future had to be faced, the last link to the past severed completely. Shelagh swallowed, turned to Patrick, beamed a big smile and replied, “To Nonnatus House please. And there, I fear, we must part,“ Shelagh decided to be bold, and leaned over to Patrick, squeezing his hand in hers, “at least for a while”.


	4. Salt and Vinegar?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timothy Turner - Wingman!

Patrick parked the MG up on Leyland Street and turned to look at Shelagh. She swallowed deeply and adjusted her glasses on her nose. 

“Well then, here we are” said Patrick.

“Yes. Thank you. For the lift. It was most, unexpected. And lovely. I’d probably be halfway to Chelmsford by now if you hadn’t found me.”

“Still closer than Chichester”

“Well, Poplar is where I am supposed to be.” Shelagh smiled at Patrick. 

“Yes.” 

They both sat there, neither one of them wanting Shelagh to get out of the car. Each of them felt as if they were in a bubble, protected from the world. Each of them knew that as soon as Shelagh walked into Nonnatus House, everything would change. 

“So, what are you doing with the rest of your day?” Shelagh asked, seeking a distraction.

“Oh, I suppose I actually am going to have to go on my rounds. I sort of dropped everything, as soon as I could after you rang, and I hadn’t really thought much past there, really.”

“Oh, I see”. There was a pause.

“What are your plans?”

“I’m not sure. Now you’ve sorted out, a room with Mrs Williams for me. And thank you for that, again. What do people do when they have free time?” Shelagh was perplexed.

They both sat back in silence again, the ticking of Patrick’s watch becoming the only sound which could be heard. 

Timothy, sitting in the back watching his Dad and ‘Auntie Shelagh’ dance around each other sighed, and leaned forward, “You should come for supper”.

“Oh?” replied Shelagh.

“Timothy!” reprimanded Patrick.

Timothy decided to plough on regardless, “Yes, it’s Mrs M’s day off, which means Dad will get Fish and Chips. You don’t want to risk his cooking, it’s terrible!”

Patrick tried to suppress the hundred yard stare that he was instinctively directing towards the boy, he focused instead on Shelagh, “would you like to, that is, if you have no other plans? You’d be more than welcome. It would be lovely to spend some time with you”, the words rushed out of Patrick’s mouth, the longing in his eyes becoming more apparent the more he said. 

Shelagh looked at him directly. She wanted to be with him desperately, and they had so much yet to talk about. Talking seemed to be their weak point however; it all seemed to be yearning glances and deep sighs. She had no idea if she was supposed to feel like this, if this was ‘normal’, if it was allowed, to feel this uplifted just by being in Patrick’s company.   
“I would very much enjoy that, it sounds lovely. What time?”

“About 6?” piped up Timothy, from the back seat.

Shelagh blushed, and turned to the boy, “That sounds marvellous,” she turned back to Patrick, “shall I come to your house, or….” her voice trailed off, she had no idea of the etiquette of relationships. She’d seen Trixie and Jenny and even Jayne go out to meet men, but it was different when you actually lived in the convent. Shelagh had often observed the young men, nervously approaching the bottom of the steps, looking guilty as they climbed the steep stairs to ring the doorbell. 

Patrick had barely opened his mouth to reply when Timothy piped up again, “Why doesn’t Dad come to meet you at Mrs Williams’, and I’ll go and get the fish and chips for us. Salt and Vinegar?”

“That sounds, most agreeable. And yes, salt and vinegar, thank you Timothy”. 

Shelagh and Patrick smiled at each other, Shelagh could feel herself retreating back to her shy self, not the bold woman who had rung Patrick a few hours ago. She turned and opened the door of the car, slowly exiting the vehicle. Patrick leapt out from the driver’s side and made his way to the boot to retrieve the case containing Sister Bernadette’s clothes. 

“I’m sorry. He shouldn’t have forced you like that, if you don’t want to come for supper….” Patrick’s voice faded, he wanted Shelagh to come for supper, but he didn’t want to seem like he was pushing. He wanted to spend every second he could with her, to find out everything he could about her, and tell her anything about him that she wanted to know, but he was nervous, very nervous. How long had she been a nun? He vaguely recalled her arriving at Nonnatus, but it had been shortly after Timothy was born, and he was run ragged with the broken nights, and his wife recovering from the birth, and his patients. He realised he didn’t even know how old Shelagh was, whether she had any prior experience of dating before she became a, well a nun. Oh good grief, what was he doing? It wasn’t as if he had any recent experience of this either. He changed his mind, he wanted to reassure her. “Please come. To supper, I mean. I promise I’ll get Timothy to be on his best behaviour – no probing questions”. 

“That’s all right – he’s a boy, they always have probing questions, I’ve found” Shelagh smiled cheekily, “just ask him what we spoke about outside Mrs Williams’ lodging house”. She smiled brightly at Patrick who looked confused.

He had man-handled the case from the boot of the car, and handed it to her. She shucked his overcoat from her shoulders and swapped it for her case. They smiled at each other.

“So, about 6 then?” checked Shelagh.

“Yes, about 6. I very much look forward to it” replied Patrick. 

Shelagh turned and walked down the side of the car, leaning in through the open door as she went, “Thank you for helping to find me Timothy, I’ll see you later” said Shelagh brightly, standing upright and turning to face the steep stairs. 

She felt now a little of the trepidation of the visitors to this place. It was commanding, and imposing, and the stairs suddenly seemed impossibly tall, like climbing Everest but without a friendly Sherpa to guide you. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and began to climb the stairs. For the first time in a long time, Shelagh had no idea what awaited her behind the vast front door, in the rambling corridors of the ramshackle building she had called home for the last ten years.


End file.
